Dear Connor Murphy
by Ayvinn
Summary: What if Connor had to write some letters to himself ? Discover and explore the inside and tortured thoughts of a lonely teenager. OS possibility of becoming a multi-chapter fic. TW: Suicide thoughts.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: I don't own Dear Evan Hansen which is a great play and musical by the way :)

TW: Suicidal thoughts.

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I know that I'm not a role model that I'm not the kind of person you can trust. I am not even a nice guy. As you can think now I'm a total asshole. I am sorry if it's look stupid but I had to write this bullshit for the Dr Sherman. He really thinks that writing those letters to myself will help me. I don't believe him. If the yoga, the meditation, the Pilates, the therapy, the pills, and the billions other things that I tested so far didn't work at all, I'm quite sure that this thing won't help either. I am a lost cause. But whatever. So,

Dear Connor Murphy,

Today's gonna be a good day and here is why:

Because today, you will escape from the real world. No matter what. Why, have you said ?

Have you ever felt like you never belong to any places. Feeling you thoughts collide and crash into a chaotic pattern of self-hatred, anger and disgust ?

Because, you know, it's always been my case.

I am trapped in a cage made of confusion and insecurity which I am the only one to have built.

It's silly how you can lock yourself in an unalterable prison.

And well, I am sleepwalking trough my life. Now that I think about it. I'm kind of zombie in fact. Indeed, a part of me already died. The joyful, the smiling, the expressing-his-feelings Connor, full of compassion, the good kid, the friend. The one who is unable to socialize and create bonds. Now all that remains is a shadow, a blurry shape of a lonely teenager, a bomb that's gonna, one day, explode if it is not already done.

I just feel trapped in this world. Full of hatred, injustice, this fucking mean world which isn't nice to anyone except for some lucky ones. Unfortunately, as you can guess, I am not part of it. Why ? I don't know. No one knows.

I don't even remember when I started to feel like this. To act so strangely. I can't even understand me. When sometimes, I would just burst and crack, wanting and destroying everything and everyone that surround me. And sometimes, I would just burst into tears and wanting to disappear. Hiding behind the veil of the burning drops of my sadness. Inhaling a smoke that couldn't prevent me from sinking and even help me to drown. Drawing a picture on my arm with a blade. Contemplating the scarlet drops of my blood, running down my pale skin. Admiring the contrast between the white and the red. Loving the pain which makes me less numb.

Finally, feeling something worth it. A mix between pain and pleasure.

So, dear Connor Murphy,

Do you know how it feels to feel like you fail at everything? That you destroyed everything you touch, wasting everything you want. Don't know how to express what you feel deep inside of you. This sudden and burning anger, hiding in the darkest place of your Heart. It is shameful. It is bad. You know it. But it seems like it is unavoidable. You're stupid. Dumb. Idiot. Fool. You're an asshole. You are everything you don't want to be. But what does it feel to be the person you hate the most in your entire life ? You're sad. You fucking idiot.


	2. Chapter 2

I don't own Dear Evan Hansen

A/N: Yeah, so it seems to become a multi-chapter fic :) Hope you like it !

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Dear Connor Murphy,

Today's gonna be a good day and here is why:

Today, at least, you didn't argue with your mother like you usually do every evening after dinner.

No, this time it's with your dad.

However, even if it's not with the same person, it's always the same thing, the same old mechanisms and vicious patterns.

Screams. Tears. Threats.

The noises of broken plates could follow this three steps.

Then, I always know that in my room, there is in one of my drawers, a little sharpened piece of cold steel. Laying there as usual. Waiting for me. Waiting, I guess, impatiently but quietly for someone to take it and dig some crimson wounds on his flesh.

This time, why do we yelled at each other ? Tough question. No, I'm kidding. It's always the same anyway.

He doesn't care about me, worse, it seems that he despises me. I understand. For him, I'm just the nuisance. The greasy long hair disappointment of the Murphy family. I already acknowledge that, so why don't he understand that I'm different ?

I'm not like Zoe, the good student, the good kid, the bright light. I'm not like her. I'm only the bad brother. The freak. The jerk. The shadow that won't get away even with the brightest sunlight ever. Nevertheless, the sun isn't always that kind. Sometimes it warmth doesn't warm me up. It radiant light can't hide the truth. And furthermore, it always burns when I am already hurt without even thinking twice. She's always like that.

Besides, I am the elder sibling who couldn't give a good example for her, whereas she doesn't need one actually. But I could definitely be an example for Who-You-Do-Not-Want-To-Be. In two words: Connor Murphy.

I know that it's HIS money on the table when it comes to pay my counselors, pills, and doctors but I do not want it in the first place.

It's mom. She always does that.

She always tries to "fix" me. To bring back the "little boy she knew", but she doesn't know or neither she ignores that, she avoids the fact that, unless she has the philosopher's stone with her or some fucking magic within her, then she couldn't bring back someone to life.

And even if, she actually has all of those freaking things, and all the determination, the strength of the hopeless people who hang up desperately on their pipe dream and illusions.

I don't need that.

Like I've already said, I don't need medicines. I don't need to see doctors. I don't need anything.

Just leave me alone.

Give me a shovel. I will dig a hole so that I could stay here for eternity. Avoiding my outbursts. Trying to take away the incomprehensible anger, the rage, in me like a flame that if it's not put out could become an uncontrollable blaze. Therefore, preventing people that surround me to destroy themselves like I already did to me.

I don't want to be helped as well as I know that I can't be helped.

For me, every day is an ordeal or a punishment.


	3. Chapter 3

I don't own the Dear Evan Hansen franchise which is awesome by the way.

A/N: It's the third part of this fanfic and I'm still wondering if I should introduce a plot in it. Because right now, it's just some random thoughts which are being thrown away (not so random fortunately) even if I like writing those like this because it give me more freedom and I don't know. Anyway, I really want to hear (more like read actually) your opinion :)

Enjoy ! :)

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Dear Connor Murphy,

Today's gonna be a good day and here is why:

Because last night, you had a dream the first one since ages. It was more a memory in fact. All blurry and vague but I still remember it. The very first day when I began to cut myself. I was... If I remember correctly in my last year of middle school. It was after another endless and stupid fight with my family, my Mom especially. I don't remember the topic of this battle but it was another pointless thing like" Why did you skip school again Connor ? " Why are you already high at 8 o'clock in the morning ?". It was the first time that I totally break down and that she seemed that she didn't care at all.

Like I didn't matter at all.

Usually, she would have come back a few moments later to tell me that she was sorry, even if it wasn't her fault at all (or at least not only), that she wasn't angry anymore, that she loves me to the moon and back and I... I would just sit next to her, understanding her words, calming down just next to her, as she gently passed her hand trough my hair. However at that moment, she seemed so pissed off and still now, I thought that if I die right in front of her she wouldn't give a shit. Her baby was already gone after all.

So, at that time, I did what it seems right to me. I found a razor in one of the bathroom's drawer.

While staring at the fresh cuts, I wondered if the blood that was oozing from them was my heart's tears, because I felt my heart so squeezed inside my chest that I asked myself if I broke it. How silly was I, wasn't I ?

Nevertheless, honestly even if, I can collect all the pieces of my heart, I don't even know if I could or would fix those. These broken parts. Sometimes, I just want to watch them fall apart.

Unfortunately, I learn that the heart wasn't some sort of thing from which emerge love or anything, it's just an organ which pump blood and maintain things alive even if it doesn't want to.

Nevertheless, I don't know how long will I last without it ?

I don't know, I don't even know if I hope for a long time or not.

Because what's the point of all of this if the only support that I have is currently missing. The only person who fills me with hope and possibility. The only person who genuinely loves me or even seems to be. And if we actually reconcile and make things up, how would we interact with each other ? Because, at the end it always the same, and it always be. For a person who's always saying that she will die for her children, that she would do anything to make me, to make us happy, I think that the fact of forgiving me isn't that hard and expensive (unlike the therapy sessions and a ton of other things) and that would certainly make this situation so much better for both of us. Because, well, it's not exclusively my fault, isn't it ? All the people implied in an argument are hurt, from the backfire of the bullets or the shots that they received. Anyway, I am not sure if I'm gonna make it. I am not sure if I can go trough this. And without her, even more. She was still Mom after all...

All these memories still hurt me and it always will, I guess. Even if people often said that Time heals wounds, I don't believe it. Indeed, I don't think that it's the best way to cope with wounds which are already sore and infected.

Crap. I don't know if I love pain but it seems to be the only thing that want to stay by my side. I'm so confused. Why do this so far away memory had to strike me right now ? For the fun of torturing me, I guess ? Perhaps it's because she was kinda nice to me yesterday. However, I'm afraid. I don't know if I would even continue to let her being with me.

I'm scared of being utterly broken again even if I still am.


End file.
